Trust Me
by RZZMG
Summary: When a curious Hermione Granger shows up at one of the BDSM clubs Neville Longbottom likes to frequent, she watches him dominate another woman's pleasure... and something unexpectedly shifts between them as a result. Her desire to learn all about his world of deviant, decadent sexual escapades may leave them both heartbroken. Post-Hogwarts-EWE (2003). Romance-Drama. COMPLETE.


**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**This one goes out to my Tumblr friends. Hope this meets your request. Happy Holidays to you!**

**This fanfic is a one-shot and is ****finished****.**

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**DISCLAIMER: **"Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**TIMELINE:** Post-Hogwarts, EWE (2003).

**MAIN CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name):** Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom

**SUMMARY:** He loves Hermione, but for the sake of their friendship, Neville can never tell her. She's happily in love with Ron, and he won't get involved in breaking them up. Intending to completely forget his school-boy obsession with her, he takes up an alternative lifestyle in the BDSM world, engaging in Dom/sub games with casual partners on the weekends and moving away from his job as an Auror at the Ministry, taking a job at Hogwarts as Sprout's assistant teacher instead. One ill-fated Saturday night, when Hermione shows up at one of the seedier clubs Neville likes to visit down in the hidden scene of Soho, however, and she watches him dominate another woman's pleasure, something shifts between them... and nothing will ever be the same for either of them again.

**RATING: **NC-17 (MA)

**WARNINGS:** Explicit heterosexual sexual situations (Dom/sub dynamics), Explicit profanity, Angst, Characters OOC for the sake of the plot.

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**TRUST ME **_**(alternatively, "The Best, Most Unforgettable Forgettable Night of Neville Longbottom's Life")**_

**BY RZZMG**

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**X~~~~~~~~~~X**

_**Saturday - 20 December, 2003**_

Hermione was beautiful as she moved over him, hips rolling as she took his prick deep into her tight, slick heat. A deep, pleasure-filled moan escaped from between her kiss-swollen lips as she rocked at just the right angle onto his hardness, and the sound, the vision of her riding him in such sweet surrender, and the exquisite sensations she evoked with the slow rhythm he'd encouraged her to try combined to make Neville swell even thicker and harder within her, tipping him closer to orgasm. He hissed between his teeth, sucking in a sharp breath of air as he fought to contain his release, shaking from the effort.

This was the best thing that had ever happened to him, hands down. Better than the time he'd won Gryffindor points during first year. Better than the night after the final battle when Luna had taken his virginity in congratulations for saving the world (her words, not his). Better than the night he'd first discovered that seedy club in Soho and had his entire understanding of sex had turned on its head.

This woman moving over him with such passion had been the first woman of his secret fantasies–the same as almost every wizard he knew his age, given the talk around the men's dorms back in his school days–but never in his wildest imaginations, had he ever _actually _believed he'd have the opportunity to have the one thing he'd wanted for years: a chance to win her for his own.

_No, that's not what this is,_ he had to sharply remind himself.

What they were doing was to be a one-off deal, not to be repeated... or remembered. That was the price that he'd agreed upon in advance, even though he was secretly disheartened by that vow now. The best that he could hope to come out of tonight was that what they did together would be enough to give her what she'd asked of him, so that whenever she looked upon him in the future, she'd remember their time together as precious and unforgettable.

She would remember enough for the both of them. He'd make sure of that.

"You feel incredible," he praised her in a hushed whisper, running his hands up and over her split thighs. Using his thumbs, he parted her curl-shrouded core and teased her clit with a light brush. "So tight, so wet. You're wonderful, Hermione. Don't stop."

Encouraged by his worship of her, she rode him harder, digging her nails into his shoulders for purchase. From between her lips, his name was gasped with a desperate urgency.

Glancing up through a half-lidded gaze, Neville noted how the flickering light emitted from the lanterns hanging low from the greenhouse rafters above their heads created a nimbus of light around her shapely, naked form. Her brown, curly mane tossed back and forth in time to her swaying hips, and her dark mahogany gaze locked onto his. In that moment, he saw Hermione for what she really was: a beautiful, innocent woman, discovering her body for the first time, awakening her sexual spirit, and revelling in the feelings.

She was a goddess.

_His_ goddess... for one night only.

Needing to explore every delectable inch of her while there was time, Neville reached up, fingers splaying wide to fondle her firm breasts. She thrust them into his palms with a graceful arching of her spine, and their weight swayed heavily against his hands. He groaned at the exquisite feel of her core clenching around him and her hips slamming down onto his rigid length as he pinched both of her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and rolled them.

"That's it, Hermione, give yourself over to this," he murmured to her in that soft, but commanding voice he'd discovered only this past year while trolling the shadowy corners of the dark, smoky clubs of London's west end. "Give me your pleasure. Let me guide you. Trust me."

"Yes," she gasped. "Please, more!"

He dropped his hands to her waist, and gave a small tap on both sides. "Up on your knees, then. Touch your breasts," he ordered her. "I want to see you pleasure yourself while I take you from below."

She immediately obeyed, lifting her bottom off of his pelvis. The tip of him just barely remained inside her as she began plucking her nips. Cute mewling noises left her throat as she tossed her head back and massaged her soft, fleshy mounds. Lying still beneath her and watching the show–her throat and cheeks dusky-hued with arousal and a bit of shyness, knowing that this was a side of her no one else had most likely ever truly seen–had Neville's heart beating faster.

Merlin, she was gorgeous.

Ron was a fool not to appreciate her.

Honestly, Neville didn't quite understand how her relationship with his ex-Housemate persisted having been witness to its ups and downs over the seven years they'd been at Hogwarts together, and in the five since the end of the war. Hermione was in a class above any woman Neville had ever known, and her on-again, off-again boyfriend certainly didn't appreciate her as a good man should, in his opinion. Forget the fact Ron lacked the ability to fully commit to staying in a relationship with her for more than eight months at a time; he was a serial break-up artist, all so he could chase some bit of skirt that had caught his eye without the guilt of technical cheating. There was also the added problem of his aversion to showing Hermione a bit of romantic affection, at least in public. Juvenile leering, crass innuendo, and bum patting seemed to be the way he conveyed his interest in her. The occasional hand-holding and chaste kiss–displays of devotion usually initiated by _her_–were rare to be accepted by Ron, much less anything more sincerely passionate.

In Neville's opinion, there didn't seem to be any deeper sentiment to the way Ron looked at or touched Hermione, and the way he spoke about her whenever he, Harry, Seamus, and Dean got together at the Leaky for a bitter or two with the mates... Well, there were nights Neville had wanted to pound his pint glass down the other man's throat, long-time friend or not.

Thinking about it now was upsetting him, in fact.

For Godric's sake, Ron had been shagging this amazing witch for half a decade, and she'd never even had an orgasm with a partner until tonight! It was inexcusable!

Not that he _wasn't _thankful to be the first to bring her off, but still, it was the principle of the thing that bothered him. If Hermione was his, he'd be fucking her every night... and telling her how incredible she was every single time. He'd never take her for granted.

But she wasn't his, not really, and that was the point. Tonight was a singular event, not to be repeated. They'd agreed. And, even though he felt disloyal for giving into temptation and having this short-lived affair with his sort-of friend's sometime-girlfriend, in the end, he eased his conscience with the thought that he wouldn't remember a thing about it anyway, so he wouldn't be able to pursue Hermione for more, as he really wanted...

The thought brought him back to the night's goal: the delivery of an unforgettable sexual experience for the woman he'd secretly been in love with for years.

She wanted to be dominated by someone experienced in the lifestyle, and instructed how to behave like a good submissive, she'd said. Well, he could definitely give her that (albeit he'd start soft and work her up to it over the next few hours, so as not to frighten her away). And she'd asked _him_ to give her this because of her confidence in their long-time friendship. In coming to him for something this important, she'd given him the most valuable thing she could–her trust–and for that, he was committed to making sure that tonight was everything she'd ever dreamed, and then some.

Her instruction began now, he decided.

"Pinch harder. _Harder,_ Hermione... until the pleasure borders on the edge of pain. Then, let them go. Do it again and again until I tell you to stop. Submit to my command."

She performed for him exactly as he'd required, tweaking her nipples over and over again until he was sure they were sore and tender. She made no protest of any kind even then, and didn't question his motives or timing, giving of herself as he expected. He stroked two fingers up and down her wet slit in reward, even as she squeezed her breasts again.

"That's it. Feel how sensitive they are now? Feel how electrified your whole body is?"

She nodded, even as she shuddered from the erotic sensation of having her small, fleshy nub caressed and pinched at the same time as she gave attention to other parts of her anatomy–her mouth, her neck, her belly, in the bend of her arm and the apex of her calf–as he changed up commands. He had her run her hands all over her body, learning it in ways she hadn't seemed to have ever done before. Between her self-exploration and his continual stimulation to her clitoris, she was shaky and sweating in no time, desperate for release.

"You're beautiful like this," he said, rubbing in faster circles over her little, damp pearl. "Beautiful because you belong to the pleasure you've denied yourself for too long. Pleasure you deserve to feel and own. It's yours. Take it."

She moaned around a, 'yes'. The deep, throaty sound had his hips jerking upwards, rocking him all the way inside her. Steadying her with his hands on her hips, he began slowly fucking into her from below, unable to hold back any longer.

"You like having me tell you what to do," he noted between long, complete thrusts. "You like it a lot, don't you?"

Closing her eyes, Hermione nodded. "Yes. For once, I don't have to think, just to act. I..." She paused, biting her bottom lip, but braved ahead anyway. "I want you to do those same things to me that you did to that woman at the club. I want you to control me like that. I... I've never been more turned on in my life than watching you take her as you did that night."

He groaned at the memory of four weeks earlier, when Hermione and Ron had walked into the BDSM club Neville frequented, their shy curiosity and her hopes of spicing up their love life bringing them unwittingly to his regular weekend playground. Ron had been too engrossed watching a witch getting tied up and cropped by another woman across the room to notice him, but Neville and Hermione had locked gazes the moment she'd glanced in his direction... and they'd held as a mutual understanding had silently passed between them.

A darker primacy had roused to life within him in that second, as Neville had realized that the witch of his paramount fantasies had finally come into _his_ world looking for satisfaction and knowledge, clearly discontented with her lot, and left unfulfilled as a result. And he'd known just staring into her wide, dark eyes, that deep down inside he–not Ron–could be the only one to give her what she'd come searching for... that, and so much more.

For the remainder of the two hours that she had remained in the house, Neville had done his very best to make sure she wouldn't need to look elsewhere. He'd given her the performance of his life, dominating his flavour of the night with a commanding tone and assuring her utmost pleasure at the same time. Throughout it all, he'd fantasized it was her–_Hermione_–under his hands, sucking him off, taking him to the hilt, giving of herself as he'd demanded.

Three weeks later, she'd come to him in secret and asked for tonight, with the caveat that he would agree to take a potion that would make him forget it all come the morning.

It hadn't been much of a hardship to make that decision. Truthfully, Neville had burned for her since that night, and after learning that Ron had, yet again, broken up with Hermione in the interim all to chase some blonde-haired bint... The word, 'yes', had leapt from between his lips even before she'd finished her pitch.

Now, his fingers caressed a path down her small, indented waist and over her wide, strong hips, stroking over her milky thighs. Sliding around her, he gripped the soft globes of her backside and pulled her back down onto him, wanting her to ride him to completion. Directing her unskilled, too-eager body with a patient hand and low, murmuring explanation, he continued her instruction in the art of sex.

In no time, she moved with elegance over his length, maximizing stimulation for them both by angling her hips just so. "It's... oh, it feels so good," she gasped with delight. "I need... I need...!"

"I know what you need. I'll give it to you. Trust me."

He, too, felt the burning of his blood through his veins. Her body was a perfect match for his, as she took him continuously to the hilt in a velvet grip that soon unravelled his well-honed discipline. Circling her clit with his thumb again, he commanded her to let go. On cue, she did as bade, shafting up and down on him until her body went super-heated and tight, and she wailed her release.

His own relief followed even as her snug pussy milked him and a gush of her warm juices covered him from tip to base. Spurts of hot come were drawn from him a series of powerful pulses, filling her tight channel with his seed. Holding fast to Hermione, Neville shuddered and moaned against the curve of her throat until the final spasm released him.

In the afters, she lay slumped against his chest, breathing just as hard as he. He smoothed a hand over her long hair and down her sweaty back, and cupped her bum with a small squeeze. She'd been magnificent, as he'd known she would be. This had been the unequivocal shag of his life. God, he wished he could say he'd never forget it!

That was a painful reminder.

In a few, short hours, he wouldn't remember having made love to Hermione; that was the side effect of a Lust Potion enhanced with Valerian sprigs, mistletoe berries, and Lethe River Water–the main ingredients of a Forgetfulness Potion. The potion he'd drunk at the start of their night together, and that would activate the moment sunlight touched him.

A part of him prayed the moon stayed put for the rest of eternity.

Hermione stirred in his arms, wiggling upon his lap, even as they were still intimately connected. Feeling her spongy, wet channel grip and stimulate him, Neville grew to prominence very quickly within her once more.

"I wish you'd let me take the antidote," he said, sighing, knowing it was a futile argument. "I'd love to remember you like this."

Hermione sat up upon his stiffening cock, and began rocking upon him once more, the Lust Potion doing wonders for both of their libidos.

"We agreed," she reminded him with a tight expression. "It was to be only one night, to learn from someone I trust, and who will treat what we're doing with respect. Someone who will give me what I've never had with a man." She looked remorseful, and her voice was sad when she whispered, "You know why it can't be more."

Yeah, he knew. He knew the truth in spades, and it killed him that she was still in love with Ron, despite the wanker's cheating ways.

Frustrated, and in a quick move, Neville rolled them so Hermione was under him, her back cushioned by the soft patch of sod that he'd painstakingly grown over half of Greenhouse Number Six this last year. Grabbing her thighs, he spread her open for a deeper penetration, and began thrusting into her with power and speed. Hermione keened in pleasure, clearly enjoying the rough stuff just as much as she had the slow and easy.

Fine, if one night was all they had, then he really would give her everything.

"I know we agreed, and I'll do this for you because you asked it of me. Honestly, I'm fucking out of my mind honoured that you came to me for something this important. I'll give you everything I can, Hermione. I'll make this the best experience of your life," he promised, pumping his hips at a gradually accelerating pace, remembering how her eyes had lit up when she'd watched him do this down at the club. "But in order to do that, I'll need your unequivocal surrender. You understand? You will submit to me, to everything I do to you tonight. You will not have to use the safe word you chose earlier. I'll make sure of that. But, you _will_ have to give me all of you back. Every emotion, every part of your body. You will not hesitate, or doubt, or fear, or even have to think. You will do as I will you to without question, and you will find pleasure in every part of it. Promise me."

She stared up at him, biting her bottom lip, clearly terrified at the prospect of not saving even one small bit of her own will in reserve.

Neville cupped her cheek and bent his lips to hers, stilling within her once again.

"Hermione, trust me."

Their gazes locked, stared into the heart of the other... and between one breath and the next, she let go. For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger let every wall fall away, becoming utterly vulnerable. A look of supreme relief overcame her expression.

"I trust you," she whispered.

_Fuck, I love you,_ Neville thought as he captured her mouth again in the sweetest of claims.

As he pulled away, however, he cloaked himself in the mantle of Hermione's Dominant and took on the role he'd learned how to play so well at the BDSM clubs. Kneeling between her legs, he pulled her up and slipped her calves over his shoulders. Grabbing her arse, he set her at the perfect angle to receive him.

"Hold onto my wrists," he bid, and she immediately complied. "Do you know what I love most about this position?" he asked. She shook her head in the negative, so he told her. "I can fuck you as hard as I want, Hermione, and when I come, it'll be deep inside you, pouring into your womb."

Her eyes glazed over with lusty anticipation.

He didn't give her any more time to wait. Setting a hard, fast pace from the start, he began thrusting into her with well-practiced, controlled movement. As he'd anticipated, she took his aggressive pounding and cried for more. He gave it to her, knowing they'd both be deliciously sore and swollen when they were done, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about that future hurt. All his focus was on Hermione just then, and bringing her enough sexual satisfaction that she'd be walking on clouds for the next year of her life.

She screamed his name and arched her back as he adjusted the angle so that he clipped the very sensitive upper lip of her pussy and she within moments, upon his command, she was coming all over his cock. Neville slowed his pace, but didn't let up, continuing to pulse into her channel right through her pleasurable contractions.

He lowered down onto her, bending her knees back near her ears so his chest hair brushed against her sensitive nipples with each forward thrust. Petting sweaty hair off her forehead, he stared her in the eye and spoke very earnestly to her. "I want you to believe me when I tell you that although I'm very much enjoying owning you tonight, you're beautiful just as you are, Hermione, with or without submitting to a man. You're sexy. You're brilliant. You're a magnificent woman and a fantastic fuck. You're perfect in every single way that matters, and anyone who can't see that... they don't deserve you."

He pressed his mouth to hers, speaking around passion-filled kisses.

"Any time you need someone to remind you of that, all you'll have to do is seek me out. Come to me, and I'll be yours."

She gave him a small, sad smile in reply.

**X~~~~~X**

Throughout the night, Neville honoured his vow to Hermione and did his best to show her the difference between love and lust, until at last they collapsed in exhaustion in a tangle of limbs, and he had taught her everything he could in the time they'd been given. He'd owned her in every position he could think of, opening her up to new ideas and sensations, filling her and covering her skin with his essence over and over until he'd felt utterly drained.

As the morning sun shone through the glass rooftop above their heads, extinguishing the flames within the magical greenhouse lanterns above, his hopeful heart broke apart as Hermione made no move to give him the antidote, however. Having taken the small, clear bottle in her hands from an inner pocket of her discarded robes, she held onto it, as if struggling with a difficult decision.

"I'm sorry. I can't," she murmured, over and over, crying.

"I'm sorry, too," he whispered with immense regret, pulling her to him one last time to kiss her goodbye.

One by one, his memories of their time together that night began to fade away as the sun crept though the glass to inch across his skin. When the tug of the potion upon his mind and body finally took away his consciousness, putting him to sleep, the warmth of Hermione's lips on his was the last sensation to bleed away.

**X~~~~~~~~~~X**

_**Wednesday – 31, December, 2003**_

Neville looked around the club, strangely discontent with the offerings on display tonight, despite it being a special New Year's revel. The things that happened in the darker corners of the rooms had never before failed to arouse his interest, and tonight they should have really caught his attention as some of the tighter rules had been relaxed to celebrate the year's turning, but at that moment, he wasn't in the least bit enticed.

Truthfully, he was still feeling irritable, as he had for the last week and a half. This moody discontent reminded him of his school days whenever his Remembrall would turn red or whenever Malfoy opened his mouth. And he was edgy, too, as if he hadn't had sex in a long time and needed to come before he exploded. Sure, he hadn't been to the club in a few weeks, but that shouldn't have had enough of a hold over him to cause him to be so grumpy. Besides, he daily tossed off to his favourite wank daydream, Hermione Granger, so it wasn't like he wasn't finding a regular release. Picturing the witch of his every fantasy on her knees, sucking his cock wasn't an original idea–he'd been having that same one since he'd been thirteen, when he'd first admitted to himself that he held a serious fancy for her–but it had done the trick every time. She was his mental sex goddess, never failing to please.

It was just a shame that something like that was ever going to happen to him in real life. He just wasn't that fucking lucky.

That night she'd come here with Ron a little over a month ago had been just a simple one time deal, brought on by curiosity. Obviously, she hadn't been interested in anything more than a little voyeurism. Hell, he wouldn't doubt that she'd probably been so horrified by what she'd seen that night that she'd decided vanilla would remain the spice of her life, hence her reason for not coming back.

To say Neville was disappointed that she wouldn't be returning, though, was the understatement of the year. He'd really thought that night that they'd made a connection, as she'd watched him perform just for her. He'd hoped...

Well, didn't matter what he'd hoped. She was Ron's girlfriend–for better or for worse, it seemed–so nothing was happening there.

Soured to the whole idea of celebrating the New Year with complete strangers, Neville was just about to turn around and leave to go home when a final glance over his shoulder brought him to an abrupt halt.

His eyes locked onto a very familiar, dark mahogany gaze watching him with an intensity that held his attention like nothing else in the room could.

Holy shit, was that–?

No, he was mistaken. Had to be.

He was about to rub at his eyes and blink the tired from his lashes when the object of his greatest obsession stepped out of the shadows and into the light, ending all doubt. His jaw dropped to his knees.

Hermione was dressed all in black, with a tight corset cinched around her middle and barely covering her breasts, favouring high heels, and her hair was up in a long ponytail. Her sleek, brown curls swung back and forth in time with her footsteps, mesmerizing in their pendulum-like movement. She looked nervous to be there and in such an outfit, but she tilted her chin up in true Gryffindor style and stared at him with a courage he couldn't help but respect.

His eyes lowered to take her all in as she walked towards him, and he nearly tripped over his own tongue.

She looked like a burlesque lingerie model coming down the runway. Her corset was a French design, made of satin and lace, her knickers were ruffled boy-shorts made of matching satin, and her black, sheer thigh-highs were ruffled at the top with the same material used in the corset. Her stiletto heels made her legs look like they went on forever. Around her throat was strapped a small, black satin collar without adornment.

"You're not vanilla," he said, too stunned to realize how stupid that sounded until several seconds after it came out of his mouth.

Her painted crimson lips turned up in a shy smile. "No, and I've decided I don't really want to be anymore." She held up a clear vial for him to take. "Drink this. It'll explain everything."

He took the stoppered tube from her hands, implicitly trusting her, but curious nonetheless. He uncorked it and took a sniff. "What is it?"

"A Lust Potion... combined with Jabberknoll feathers, Ginko, Bayberry, Apple blossom-"

He tweaked an eyebrow at that, recognizing the plant ingredients and knowing what they could do when combined. "Aren't those some of the components for a Memory Potion?"

She nodded, stepping very close to him. "Yes. You see, there's something you've forgotten that I really want you to remember."

Her fingers brushed provocatively against his arm, and Neville stared down at her with surprise.

"Uh, does Ron know you're here?"

Hermione's smile grew bolder. "I decided that Ron and I... we just aren't going to work out. I moved flats, told him we were really through, as in for good. He didn't really love me, you see. He liked the idea of having a go-to girl that was respectable to settle down with someday, but in the meantime, he lusted after everything in a skirt." She gestured around them with a wave of her hand. "It's funny, but when I suggested he and I should come here a month or so ago, it was so I could learn to be like the kind of girls he was attracted to. I didn't come here for me, but for him. I realized later that I was being foolish. I mean, I liked what I saw here, but my motivation for coming had been all wrong the first time. Someone... someone very special to me told me that if I wanted to try this lifestyle, it should be because _I'm_ interested in it, not to keep some man's attention."

She stepped even closer to Neville, and stared up at him with wide, doe-like eyes that held him caged in their starry depths.

"He didn't actually say those words out loud, you see, but... I heard them every time he touched me. He _did_ tell me that he thought me beautiful and wonderful just as I was, and was willing to open my eyes to the 'me' hidden inside here." She tugged his hand up and placed it right over her left breast. "He told me to find him whenever I was ready to accept those things about myself."

Neville's heart was hammering hard under his ribs. His previous restlessness was suddenly amped up a hundred degrees and his hand was shaking as he stared down at the potion within his palm. "I... I'm glad you stood up for yourself," he said, "and that you found someone else worthy of you. You deserve happiness. You're a magnificent woman."

"And a fantastic fuck," she replied, smoothing a hand up his torso with seductive intent.

The way she said the word, 'fuck'–elongating the 'fu' sound and crisply snapping out the 'ck'–had Neville steel-hard in his pants in two seconds flat. His Muggle jeans were suddenly four sizes too small, and it was a bit hard to breathe just then.

He stared hard into her eyes... and suddenly, he _knew_ they'd been intimate. It wasn't a memory, just that same niggling doubt that had been in his head all week, making him ill-sorted and feeling under-sexed.

This was the reason, right here.

"When did we-? We did, didn't we?" he asked, pausing to collect his thoughts. His jaw was tight with tension as she demurely looked down, giving him his answer. "Why can't I remember it?"

Her fingers closed around his, pressing the potion harder into his palm. "Drink it and you will."

Had she Obliviated him? Why would she do that?

Noting his suspicion, she reached up and stroked her fingertips over his lips in a gentle caress. "Trust me... as I trusted you." She stepped back then, giving him the opportunity to deny her request, but clearly, she was nervous of his rejection.

Neville stared at the vial again, pulling the cork from it once more and bringing it up to eye level.

Did he want to know what they'd done and the reason for it?

Yes, he did.

Would it change everything for him?

He glanced over at the witch in front of him and realized it would, and it wouldn't. How he knew that, he wasn't sure, but his guts told him that was the right answer.

Tossing the vial back, he let the cool liquid run down his throat and convulsively swallowed until the contents were entirely down his gullet.

"You may want to sit down for this," she said, taking his arm and leading him towards one of the red and purple upholstered couches situated around the room. "It hits hard."

And it did, when its effects manifested a minute later. The truth hit him harder than he'd ever expected as his memories returned to him. At first, it was a painful process, as the previously blocked nerve synapses reconnected and began firing again. Within minutes, the pain dulled and fuzzed away, and he could finally process the events of that lost weekend a week and a half ago, when he'd mistakenly believed he'd drunk himself into a stupor the entire two days in a fit of holiday depression and had blacked out.

Holy fuckoli, he and Hermione had... they'd... _a lot_... in almost every way possible... and it had been awesome.

He glanced at her, and broke into a huge smile as he realized what her coming to the club tonight, dressed as she was, really meant for them.

Lightly gripping the back of her neck, he directed her mouth towards his. "You know, I've decided: _this_ is the best thing that's ever happened to me, hands down," he said, and kissed her.

And it was. It really, really was.

_**~FIN~**_

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_****_**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**This is my first time shipping this couple. What did you think? Please review!**


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